Welcome to the Life
by RapidEyeMovement
Summary: Struggling with the loss of a father he barely knew, Owen Mercer must decide whether or not to follow in his footsteps. Just what does it mean to be a Rogue, and is it a life he really wants?


**Author's Note:** This story is set after the events of _Identity Crisis_ and during some of the events of _The Secret of Barry Allen_ and _Rogue War_, which is why there are some gaps in the narrative. Enjoy.

* * *

**1: The Cold Hard Truth**

"Welcome to the life."

That was what he had said sarcastically when informed that Captain Boomerang had an adult son. Cold knew he shouldn't have been surprised that, even in death, Digger still had tricks up his sleeve. Still had secrets. That was the nature of the life they chose.

The Rogues were many things, but it would be farfetched to call them honest. Superheroes may have their secret identities, but supervillains have much more hidden behind their colourful costumes and amusing codenames. It was such secrecy, both of heroes and villains, that put the Rogues in their current situation.

Digger had been shot dead in a botched burglary attempt in Gotham City, of all places, and it had come out that he had a son. What was not so secret was that Digger had always been "close" with Cold's late sister, and this had led to whispers as to the identity of the young man's mother.

Because of this, and many more reasons besides, Captain Cold was attempting to discover the name and whereabouts of Boomerang's offspring. He now sat in the Rogues' current hideout, on the phone, patiently waiting for it to be answered.

Noah Kuttler, A.K.A. The Calculator, was the man in the know. A former Z-list supervillain who had now set himself up as an information broker and professional middle man. It had cost Cold nearly a grand just for the phone call – even with Mirror Master's connections – but if anyone knew where Digger's son was, it was the Calculator.

Cold, phone still clutched to his ear, looked around cautiously. It was dead of night, and his fellow Rogues were sleeping off the burden of having toasted to Digger's memory several times.

Making sure he was alone, Cold slipped a hand into his jacket and produced an old photograph. It was of him and his sister, Lisa, back when they were both 'reformed'. He was wearing his bright blue parka and visor, and she had her Golden Glider costume on. They were both smiling. Cold had never felt genuine during his time on the right side of the law, but the smiles in the picture were as real as it got. His little sister had meant the world to him. If this kid really was Lisa's; really was his nephew…

_"Hewlett Packing and Shipping Company," _said a flat, nasal voice on the phone, dragging Cold out of the photograph. _"All our offices are closed for the month. May I take a message?"_

"Five-three-one-eight-zero-zero-eight," Cold replied. It was the password McCullough had acquired.

_"Ah, Captain Cold," _said Kuttler, now speaking normally. _"Sorry to hear about your loss, but then that's the life we poor souls lead now isn't it? What can I do for you, my dear Captain?"_

Cold sighed. "That password's pretty childish, Kuttler, 'though I'm sure it amuses schoolboys. How d'you know it was me, anyway?"

Kuttler chuckled. _"I traced the call. Got Keystone City. Figured with Boomerang's death, it was only a matter of time before one of your lot called, asking after that little 'Joey' of his."_

"How much?"

_"Straight to business. That's what's great about you Rogues." _There was a pause. _"But, in all seriousness, Len… This one's on me."_

"Getting sentimental in your old age, Noah?"

_"Digger and I go way back." _Kuttler gave a small, sad laugh. _"I mean; I dressed up like a fucking pocket calculator and he threw around 'trick boomerangs' – it's not like we fit in with the Lex Luthor crowd, y'know? How things change…"_

Cold understood. Alienation was something all the Rogues understood. "You're a good man, Noah."

_"That's what my parole officer tells me anyway. Okay, the kid's name is Owen Mercer and he lives at…"_

* * *

"2678 Ocean Avenue. There we are," said McCullough.

It was now the following morning and the Rogues stood, fully suited-up, before one of Mirror Master's special mirrors that showed the interior of a slightly run-down suburban home.

"You sure this is the right place, McCullough?" Cold asked.

The orange-and-green-suited Scot shrugged in a display of mock offence. "Have I ever let you down before, Cold?"

Cold immediately thought of the ex-mercenary's drug addiction, but said nothing. When it came to his physics-defying mirror technology, McCullough was a professional.

Weather Wizard and the new kid Trickster were also assembled. "There he is," said Mardon. In the mirror, they all saw a young man in his twenties walk into the living room. He was tall, thin, and had red hair and a sad look on his face. He was holding a boomerang.

"Can he see us?" asked Cold.

"Naw," said McCullough. "Not unless you want him to."

"So what are we waiting for?" demanded the garish young Trickster. "Let's get in there."

"No, Axel," said Captain Cold. "I'm going in alone." Mardon gave Cold a silent look of understanding. The rumour about Owen's parentage was well known. Mirror Master simply nodded.

"Pffft," was Axel's reply. "Whatever. Not like I haven't got better things to do anyway…"

Mardon put his hand firmly on Axel's arm. "You'll stand and wait with the rest of us. Unless you've forgotten what it means to be a Rogue."

Axel rolled his eyes behind his mask. "Yeah, yeah, yeah; all for one, blah, blah, blah…"

The three older men exchanged disquieting looks. They all sometimes wondered – and argued – about Axel and his future with the Rogues.

"Okay," said Cold, ignoring the spoilt child's comments. "Wish me luck." He stepped up to the looking-glass.

"Here," said Mirror Master. He handed Cold a small remote device. "I'll shut off the link when you're in; give ye's some privacy and that. Use this 'hing when yer ready to return."

Cold nodded in acknowledgement and took a deep breath. He had been through McCullough's bizarre mirror portals – and Sam Scudder's before him – hundreds of times before. He was used to the brief period of disorientation when it feels like you've been turned inside-out before re-emerging in the real world. But today he felt like it was a step into the unknown.

He took the step.

The kid reacted with almost instantaneous reflexes as soon as Cold materialised in his living room. He was on his feet and brandishing the boomerang like a flash.

"Who the hell are you?" Owen shouted.

Cold kept his ice pistol holstered and held up his hands in a show of peace. "Name's Len Snart, kid. But, if you read the papers, you probably know me better as Captain Cold."

"Snart…?"

"That's right. I used to run with your old man." Cold took a step forward. "Shame what happened…"

"Stop right there!" said Owen, bracing himself for a throw. "Don't come any closer!"

Cold smirked. "Owen, razor-sharp or not, that boomerang'll never hit me. I got this 'cold field' thing surrounding me. Freezes any fast-moving objects heading towards me; totally halts their momentum. Boomerangs, bullets… speedsters…"

"How d'you know my name?"

"I probably know you better than you do, Owen," said Cold. "But I know your father even better." He smugly walked over to an armchair and sat himself down. "I could tell you stories…"

Owen lowered the boomerang, but remained standing. "You and my dad… were friends?"

"Digger was one of my best friends. He was one of the original Rogues. We fought the Flash together, lots of times. We were… Well, we were like brothers. All the Rogues were…"

"And now what?" said Owen. "You've come here to offer me membership, just 'cause he's dead now? That it?"

"No." Cold leant forward on the chair. "I came because the Rogues take care of their own. Your dad was one of us, Owen, that makes you our responsibility."

"I'm not _anyone's_ responsibility!"

Cold stood up and fixed Owen with a piercing stare through the thin window of his visor. "But you wanna know about Digger! Who he was… Who _you_ are."

"Shut up!" Owen yelled. "You don't know me! Get out!" He hurled the sharpened boomerang towards Cold.

It was futile; the curved projectile got within five inches of Captain Cold's body before it halted in mid-air and crystallised, then fell to the ground and shattered.

"Sorry, kid, no can do," said Cold. "And you're wrong; I do know you. I know that when you met Digger, you felt like you had found a missing piece of your soul. You saw in him the answers to all the questions that had been plaguing you your whole life: Who am I? What makes me the way I am? Am I a good or bad person?" Cold slowly paced towards the younger man who was now listening intently.

"That's what the Rogues are, Owen. The answers to all your questions. Your father may be gone, but you've still got a family." Cold could see that, despite maintaining a grim face, Owen was holding back tears. He was hearing just one too many truths. "All I'm asking is for you to come to Digger's funeral. Hear about your old man from the people who knew him best.

"He was a Rogue. Let us show you what that means."

Owen sunk into an armchair, his head down and his breathing heavy. Then he looked straight into Cold's eyes.

"Show me."

* * *

**2: Forecasting**

Owen threw the boomerang through the air faster than human eyes could follow and it collided with the armoured car, causing an explosion that ripped the reinforced metal clean in two. Flaming dollar bills rained down on the street outside the Keystone City Bank.

"Hell yeah!" Axel shouted in appreciation, swooping past with his 'air-walker' shoes and a bagful of Digger's old boomerangs.

Chaos covered the streets of Keystone tonight. After Captain Boomerang's funeral, the Rogues had gone their separate ways, but Captain Cold, Weather Wizard, Mirror Master and the Trickster had taken Owen to indulge in one of their old traditions – Looting the city using a fallen comrade's equipment.

Mardon couldn't help smiling. "You're Digger's kid alright!" he shouted to Owen. Then he saw a cop coming up behind Owen with his gun drawn.

Mardon resisted the urge to call down a lightning bolt upon the law officer and instead, in keeping with the tradition, pulled out an electro-shock boomerang and tossed it at the armed cop. Although his aim wasn't as good as Digger's or Owen's, he still managed to hit his target, who was promptly stunned into unconsciousness.

"Thanks," said Owen before turning back to the carnage. He and Trickster helped McCullough load the bank's money into one of his mirror portals.

Captain Cold stood watching it all, his arms folded in approval. Mardon glided over to him on a wind current. He could see what his old friend was thinking in his eyes.

"Digger would have loved this," said Mardon.

Cold nodded. "I can see a lot of him in the kid."

"Yeah," said Mardon. He squinted as he asked the difficult question everyone had been waiting to ask. "Can you see any of Lisa in him?"

Cold gave the Wizard a sideways look to make sure he wasn't merely being provoked.

"We been friends a long time, Mark," said Cold. "If you were anybody else, I'da socked you one right there for saying that.

"But you and me… We're the only ones left of the original Rogues," said Cold.

Mardon could see that he was not in the mood to discuss his sister, so he indulged Cold's reminiscing. "Digger and Scudder dead; Piper, Mick and James 'reformed', the Top's a nutcase; Christ knows where Kadabra is these days…" Mardon sighed. "Not many of us left anymore…"

"And these new kids…" Cold went on. "I mean, Axel's okay. He's a little rough around the edges, but he's got potential… These other guys: Tar Pit, Girder, Double Down… And I don't know about you, but Murmur scares the living shit outta me."

Mardon folded his arms. "They don't get what it means to be a Rogue."

"Exactly," said Cold. "I mean, d'you remember what it was like back then? When we first started out? There was maybe a couple freaks in Gotham and Metropolis, but there wasn't anybody like us."

"Yep," said Mardon. "Back then it seemed like you had to be either a psycho or a megalomaniac to be in the game. Then we came along. We were just ordinary crooks with extraordinary abilities."

Cold grunted and Mardon knew he disagreed with the 'ordinary' part, but he didn't mention it.

"Now you got these super-powered kids running around all over the place," said Cold. "No honour to them. No purpose. They're just in it for kicks. It has to be more than that…"

Both costumed criminals let that hang in the air for a moment.

"What about Owen?" said Mardon eventually. "Is he in?"

"He's got the spirit of a Rogue," said Cold. "In time, he'll see we're the same as him. Misunderstood… Lonely… Outcasts… But it's up to him whether or not he wants the life.

"He's got to make the choice we all had to make: Which side of the law do you wanna be on?"

"He'll be thrown in at the deep end," said Mardon. "I told you about this big thing Luthor's got planned…"

"Yeah, Calculator mentioned it to me as well. This is different from all those other 'supervillain team-ups'. They want _everybody_."

"They got some pretty big names already: Grodd; Sivana, Black Manta… Killer Frost says they even bagged Sinestro. I don't know what they're planning, but it's gonna be big."

"I can't help but feel that something big's coming to our own little doorstep," said Cold.

"What do you mean?" asked Mardon.

"Like you said; Piper, Rory and the first Trickster all gone legit – or so they say – and now that crazy Magenta bitch is with 'em too. It's only a matter of time before they make a move for us."

"You think?"

"Hell, Mark, you're the Weather Wizard… Can't you feel the calm before the storm?"

Cold's words sat heavily in Mardon's head. Truth be told, the thought had occurred to him as well – that eventually they would have to fight their former friends. Men he had drank with, laughed with, broke the law with, done time with. Men who almost came close to replacing his dead brother in terms of their bond.

Mardon knew Cold was fond of his 'once a Rogue, always a Rogue' philosophy, but at the end of the day, the so-called 'reformed Rogues' were traitors. Plain and simple. Mardon had no problem with repaying their treachery. And he knew that, deep down, neither did Cold.

Lightning sparked in Mardon's eyes. "What's a little bad weather?"

Cold grinned and slapped Mardon on the back. "Damn right."

"Here! Yous two!" McCullough was shouting at them. "Something wrang with yer backs, eh? Come and gie us a hand!"

"C'mon," said Cold to Mardon. "Let's go see what kind of day it's been."

* * *

**3: Tricks of the Trade**

The 'grown-ups' were busy planning some way of figuring out what had happened to Captain Boomerang's body, and Axel was hungry.

Mirror Master was always laughing at him for eating so much yet still being so small. It was annoying, but he put up with it. He put up with being called 'son' and 'kid'. He put up with constantly being compared to James Jesse, the first Trickster. He put with all the 'those-were-the-days' stories and the in-jokes that he didn't get. He put up with being the 'new guy' and the baby of the team.

But not any more.

There was a new 'new guy'. Someone around Axel's age – albeit slightly older. Axel found Owen sitting in the hideout's lounge. He was looking pretty down, which was understandable. His estranged father, whom he had only recently met, had just died; he had met some old guys who were pals with his dad; and now they were all going on a trip to find his dad's corpse. Joy.

Given the situation, Owen probably needed some time alone. So Axel stormed right in.

"Yo, bro!" said Axel as he playfully punched Owen's shoulder. Activating his air-walker boots, Axel then perched himself cross-legged in mid-air. He had fashioned himself a mighty sandwich in the kitchen and now he got stuck into it in front of Owen.

"The hell is that?" asked Owen.

"My own little concoction," said Axel between mouthfuls. "Pretty much everything edible we have left in the kitchen between two slices of bread."

"Sounds great," said Owen. His tone was lost on Axel.

"Oh sorry, bro. You want some?" Axel proffered the sandwich.

"No thanks," said Owen.

"So how comes you're not in there with those old farts, helping 'em look for your dad?"

"I, uh, I thought I'd best leave them to it," said Owen. "I don't understand how this criminal stuff works, man."

"Nothing to it," said Axel. "I mean, I been in and outta juvie since I was, like, six; but this is for real. This is supervillain shit, man! Getting my name in the papers; battling the Flash; creating a criminal alias…"

"Didn't you… I mean, wasn't there a Trickster before you?"

"Pffft, yeah. Some lame old dude from, like, the circus or something. Now he's a square – works for the F.B.I. Like I said: _lame_."

Owen rubbed the back of his neck and made sure the other Rogues were far enough away. "Axel, can ask you something?"

"Shoot."

"Why d'you join them? Why join the Rogues? And I'm not just talking about the age thing."

Axel nodded and made sure to swallow down his last bite. "I get what you're saying. I could have been normal, like everybody else, or I could've just been a regular criminal, right?"

"Yeah. Why take that extra step? What's so special about being a Rogue?"

"Well, like I said, I was no choir boy. I don't know what it was; some people are just born bad, I guess…"

"Yeah, yeah," said Owen. "I get all that stuff. I mean, these days you just need to turn on a prime time cop show to gain insight into the criminal mind. There's no mystery behind that anymore. But why be a supervillain?"

"I'm getting to that, man," said Axel. "Anyway, one day I'm breaking into this random storage unit in Central City and I find it's full of all these cool gadgets and shit. It was awesome, man.

"When I found out they belonged to the Trickster, I figured I could be, like, the new Trickster, what with that old guy off the scene.

"Wasn't long before this chick Blacksmith was totally all over me. Wanted me to join her New Rogues. Didn't last. But old Cold and his pals through there were quick to take me in. Sometimes I think it was just to piss off the first Trickster, 'cause of how he betrayed them.

"At first I went along with it just for the fun. Then… I dunno… Cold's always talking about how no-one understands us, and how we belong together… Guess it kinda made sense to me. I never really fit in at school, y'know? Never had many friends…"

Owen gave a sad smile. "Me either…"

"That's what the Rogues are, I guess," said Axel. "Friends, but _real_ friends, y'know? Not just the people you work with, or went to school with. Not just people you put up with 'cause they're all you got. The Rogues understand you, 'cause they're just the same. The Rogues _get_ you. If you let 'em."

Owen nodded. "What's it like? Following in another Rogue's footsteps?"

Axel shrugged. "It's okay. I mean, sometimes I wish I had come up with my own identity, but I was never gonna invent hover-shoes by myself, y'know?

"Like, I never met the first guy, 'cause he had already gone to Squaresville before I stole his stuff, but the others sometimes tell me that I'm a better Trickster than he ever was.

"Which is true, of course, but the way they say it, it's like it's suppose to mean the world to me. But it's just a name, y'know?"

"I think my dad wanted me to be the new Captain Boomerang," said Owen. He was gently clutching one of his father's boomerangs.

"Heavy," said Axel. "You gonna do it?"

There was a long pause before Owen replied. "I've thought about it… But I dunno… I mean, Cold and the others have helped me discover who my father was, and now they're helping me find his body so he can have a proper burial… And I understand why they chose this life – why my dad chose it – but I just don't know if _I_ want this life for myself…"

"Well, I'll say this anyway: You got more of a right to be Captain Boomerang than I do to be the Trickster."

Owen let out a small laugh at the teenager's compliment. "Thanks, man."

"No probs," said Axel. There was a sound of chairs scuffling from the other room. "Oh, better stand to attention; I think Frosty, Storm and Braveheart are done playing Spin the Bottle."

Owen couldn't help but laugh at this too as he turned to face the door. Cold, Mardon and McCullough did indeed appear.

Cold was smiling. "Good news, son; we've got a plan." He now looked to Axel. "Get your bag of tricks, junior. We're sending you on a field trip."

Axel was surprised at his sudden importance. "Field trip? Where?"

"You like museums?"

**

* * *

**

4: Reflections on Symmetry

McCullough poured himself another shot of whiskey and as he gulped the harsh liquid down, he found his mind clouding over with memories.

Glasgow pub crawls on chilled Saturday nights; swaggering through the illuminated grey streets long after closing time; singing songs without words; and having wild adventures while the world slept.

Then he remembered the fights.

His drinking buddies never lasted long in those days. Sooner or later, he'd feel himself starting to settle; to fit in; to _belong_, and that would scare him. He'd lash out; take a swing at someone, just to provoke them. There'd be a punch up and he'd never see that crowd again after that night. He'd move on to others; find new locals, new regulars, and the process would repeat.

It was why he found it easier to move to London, and eventually the States – no connections. He wasn't leaving anything behind. Except his home.

People always asked why supervillains didn't just move to somewhere without its own resident superhero. Those people just didn't understand the bond between a man and his home. The Rogues would always be in Keystone or Central City, just as McCullough would always have a place in his heart for his dear old Glasgow town.

"Couldn't sleep either?"

McCullough looked up to see that Owen had wandered into the kitchen.

"Awright, lad," said McCullough, saluting the younger man with his shot glass. "Sit yersel' down. Big day the morra; going after yer da'. Ready for it?"

"I'm ready for anything, when it comes to my dad," said Owen, sitting down.

"That's the spirit," said McCullough. "Have yersel' a wee dram." He waved his shining silver hipflask at Owen.

"Uh, no thanks," said Owen.

"Ah, c'mon," said McCullough. "Helps tae get a wee bit pished before a big job. Unless ye cannae handle yer drink, eh? Unless yer a wumman…"

Owen grinned. He accepted the challenge and took a gulp from the flask. He hissed through his teeth as it hit his throat and coughed a little. "Strong stuff," he croaked.

_"Haw!"_ McCullough laughed. "There's definitely some Aussie blood in you, awright."

Owen laughed and passed the flask back for McCullough's use. "I guess so," he said. "I mean, I've never even been to Australia."

McCullough downed another shot then pointed the glass at Owen. "Maybe that's where we should bury yer da'."

"Maybe," said Owen, smiling. He took another hit from the flask.

"I only met yer old fella a few times, Owen," said McCullough. "Time I joined the Rogues, he was moving around a lot. But we always got on; being the only foreigners an' that… You're a lot like him, y'know."

Owen nodded his thanks and took another shot of the whiskey. This time he held onto the flask; gazing into his warped reflection in its gleaming surface.

"There's probably a lot going through yer mind right now, son," said McCullough. "And I know what it's like to be the new guy wearing a dead man's costume. Wondering if you belong here, wae the Rogues. And I know what it's like… to lose a parent you've only just met…

"We all know about loss, son… Cold's sister, Mardon's brother… But we also know what it's like tae be at that crossroad in life. Unsure whether to be a 'goodie' or a 'baddie'."

Owen didn't say anything, but he gave McCullough a look that encouraged him to continue.

McCullough took another shot. "Aye… Dark talk for a dark hour… See, the way I 'hink about is: there's a symmetry tae life… An' I'm no just saying that 'cause I'm the Mirror Master, _heh_. So long as there's good, there'll be evil, an' vice versa." He shrugged. "Just the way of the world."

Owen shifted in his seat. "I'm beginning to see what the Rogues can offer me… A home… A family… A place to belong…

"See, I never really had much friends growing up. I was raised in an orphanage…"

McCullough grinned. "So was I. Tough in't it? No knowing who yer parents are… Always feeling like some… leftover…"

"Yeah… Probably why I felt so different from other people… I mean, I had friends at work and shit… but they never really felt all that important to me, y'know?"

"Not like what ye see in films and the telly; where they're all best pals and they'd do anything for each other an' aw that shite."

"Exactly," said Owen. "They were just… _there_."

"An' when you felt yerself getting too close to them, you'd just retreat further…"

"Yeah…" Owen furrowed his brow in thought for a moment. "But with the Rogues… It just feels so _real_, y'know?"

"Yer finally through the looking-glass, Alice," said McCullough, patting Owen on the shoulder. "Here, you read much Shakespeare?"

"Uh, not really, no," said Owen, confused at the change in conversation.

"I'm no much one for quoting deid Englishmen myself, but there's this one I've always liked. Some big speech fae _Henry V_…" McCullough took a deep breath, sat up straight and gazed into the shadow.

_"We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother._

"That's the Rogues in a nutshell, Owen." He raised his shot glass in a toast and Owen joined him with the hipflask.

"To brothers…"

* * *

**5: The Thing About Boomerangs…**

"That was a fucking shit-storm from start to finish!" Lightning was sparking from Mardon's eyes and wand, and the wind howled around him furiously.

Owen watched as the older men argued in the middle of Avernus – the Rogues' cemetery. Mardon and McCullough were yelling at Heat Wave and the original Trickster, who had decided to join them. Captain Cold was in the middle, shouting at both groups.

The Rogues had been in a huge battle with each another in downtown Keystone City. It had involved everybody: old and new Rogues; reformed Rogues; even big hitters like Dr. Alchemy and Grodd, who usually work alone. Of course, the Flash had become involved, along with Kid Flash and Jay Garrick. Then the Top appeared and did something to Mick Rory and James Jesse that turned them back into Heat Wave and Trickster. Jesse had even stripped Axel of his stolen title and sent him packing.

Then Zoom showed up…

They had made their escape, but not before finally acquiring Digger's body and putting it to rest in Avernus.

"We'd have been awright, if it wisnae fer these flip-flopping bastards," shouted McCullough. "Fucking 'hings up fer everybody!"

"Hey! We helped you find Digger's body!" Trickster yelled back. "It was Zoom who ruined everything!"

"Enough!" shouted Cold. "Not here." He left the four others in silence, standing in twos, and approached Owen at his father's grave.

"We got some stuff to sort out," Cold said to him. "But for now, let's just sort this out: Are you with us?"

There was a heavy pause. Owen kept staring at his father's tombstone. Then he said, "I'm… not sure…"

Cold nodded. "Well you've had plenty of time to decide. We helped you discover who your father was; showed you his life, what it meant; and helped you get him a decent burial. We all owed him that much…

"So as far as I see it, our obligations to Digger are over. That just leaves _you._

"If you say no, you'll be free to just walk away, back to your normal life. I don't need to tell you what's down that road. But with the Rogues… you'd belong to something much more special…" Cold let that thought sink in.

"I understand all that, Cold," said Owen. "I think I know what the Rogues are now, and it's something I can respect – something I can belong to… But I find myself asking difficult questions… About the nature of right and wrong… Do I really want the life of a criminal?"

"Let me tell you a little something about right and wrong, kid," said Cold. "It may not surprise you that I had a pretty crappy life growing up. The first adult who ever treated me and my sister with any kindness was our grandfather. He was honest, hard-working and just about the bravest person I ever knew. He'd stand up to my dad when he'd get rough with us…

"Now, my grandfather, he believed in the American dream and all that day's-pay-for-a-day's-work stuff… His dream was that, when he retired, he'd buy a boat and just go sailing around the world. I used to imagine that me and Lisa would go with him…

"He dropped dead from a heart attack three weeks before he retired.

"That's what an honest life gets you, kid: Nothing. You get up in the morning, go to your boring-ass job for piss-poor pay, go home, eat junk food, watch crappy T.V., go to bed, dream in black and white. Ordinary people? Their dreams are limited… But not us."

Owen looked away from Cold and crouched down to his father's graveside. He placed a single boomerang against the grey stone.

Cold gave Owen a moment to himself before speaking. "So, once again, Kid Boomerang: You in?"

Owen looked up at Cold with a look in his eyes and a grin on his face that could've come straight from Digger himself.

"That's _Captain_ Boomerang."

Cold grinned wide and put his hand firmly on Owen's shoulder.

"Welcome to the life."


End file.
